Seven Deadly Sins
by Deathofme
Summary: [Snape Hermione]  Page 197 from 'Lolita'
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** A 100 word drabble per sin, all connected narratively. Written for grangersnape100 and now archived here. Any more drabbles written for that community that are worth anything, will be posted here in the future. Be patient if this updates several times, I'm having trouble with coding.

Please leave a review, and enjoy!

**Gluttony **

The war had ended. Half of Hogwarts lay in ruins, but people shouted for joy under a blanket of stars. Hermione opened her arms wide and welcomed the night.

She found Severus in his office. The happy sounds made him flee to the comfort of solitude. He was about to snap at her irritably, but then deflated. Offering her a tumbler full of Firewhiskey, they drank in silence. Hermione felt wonderfully lightheaded and giggled when she saw they had already finished a bottle.

"Should we open another?"

"Moderation, Miss Granger."

But he twisted the cap off a second bottle anyway.

**Sloth **

"Why are you here, Miss Granger?"

She looked up startled, seeing through a haze of alcohol.

"Pardon?"

"Why aren't you with your fellow Gryffindors? Why aren't you joining in the sickening adulations of Saint Potter?"

Hermione's mouth opened, but was prevented from saying anything because she lurched forward and fell against his chest. He regarded her tipsy behavior with disdain. Her words were slightly slurred.

"No one should be alone tonight."

"Oh _spare me_."

He snarled, roughly catching her shoulders and helping her sit up straight. He quickly let go and then moodily stared into his tumbler, wallowing in gloom.

**Pride **

Hermione's eyes narrowed as she saw his defenses go up. She decided she would not give him the satisfaction. She wasn't sure if it was her stubbornness, or the Firewhisky, but she found herself poking his chest.

"You're pathetic."

He looked up sharply, inhaling with a hiss.

"Wallowing in self-pity…how childish of you."

His hand clenched around his tumbler and his knuckles turned white. Hermione was not intimidated enough to stop.

"You've helped vanquish Voldemort and you've fought and survived this war. And you're sulking now because Harry's going on the cover of tomorrow's Prophet? That's immature."

His eyes flashed.

**Wrath **

The glass tumbler shattered in Severus' hand, causing Hermione to jump. The sound of the breaking glass seemed to lift some of their drunken stupor. Hermione felt fear creeping into her mouth now as Severus' eyes blazed at her with white-hot anger.

"Immature? _Immature?_"

His hands gripped her shoulders painfully and their faces were mere inches apart. He was seething.

"How _dare_ you accuse me of being immature? Miss Granger, I've endured more horrors than you or Potter will encounter in your lifetimes combined."

His voice was a syrupy purr, dark and tempestuous.

"Don't…_try…me_."

Hermione's breath hitched in her throat.

**Lust **

"Says you."

Severus felt a hand on his neck, and Hermione leaned forward to claim his angry mouth. She felt it quirk underneath her lips in puzzlement, and then hungrily respond. His hands tangled in her hair and angled her face upwards, his demanding jaw forcing her into submission. When they finally broke for air, his eyes were still burning, but his voice had grown throaty.

"You are _very_ impertinent, Miss Granger."

"One of my charms."

Her fingers traced along the outline of his eyebrows, and he leaned forward to place butterfly kisses on her throat. Her eyes fluttered closed.

**Envy **

Hermione's back arched languorously and her toes curled in contentment. There was a wonderful gravity she felt in the pit of her stomach, with Severus' lips still roaming the cartography of her face. A chuckle emitted from deep within her throat.

"I wonder what the boys would say…"

The lips grazing her eyelid froze, and then drew away. Her eyes opened and her left eyebrow quirked upward. Severus' gaze bored into hers, his lips swollen from kisses.

"Don't think of those slavish boys now, they're not for you. You won't have those pre-pubescent whelps clumsily pawing you…"

"_Oh?_ Feeling possessive?"

**Greed **

"Very."

Her smirk deepened into a wicked grin. There was a glint of mischief and expectation in her eyes that sent a _frisson_ through Severus. It was almost as if he had reacted just the way she wanted him to. She had him wrapped around her nimble finger.

"Go on then…"

Her lips brushed against the sensitive velvet of his ear and he shuddered. It was like there were strings running from his ear to his scalp, singing through each of his fingertips and pulling somewhere behind his groin.

"Take note then that I will have everything. Absolutely everything."

"Noted."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** Drabbles written for grangersnape100 and now archived here. The drabble's title is the prompt. Thanks for all the positive reviews for "Seven Deadly Sins", here are some more! The third one throws the Deathly Hallows epilogue out the window, and the last one is somewhat M-rated. You've been warned. Be patient if this updates several times, I'm having trouble with coding.

Please leave a review, and enjoy!

**"Whoops!" **

"I can't let you go!"

Hermione grabbed the front of his robes wildly. Severus' lip curled in contempt, one hand clutching his mask.

"You know I must do it for the Order—"

"No! It's too dangerous."

Hermione wrestled with him briefly, on the verge of hysterical tears. Severus tried to wrench himself from her grasp.

"We must all do what we can—"

"I won't see you tortured again."

Her hand knocked against his, and the white mask slipped and fell to the floor, shattering to porcelain pieces. Severus sighed, defeated and Hermione looked at him with wide, startled eyes.

"Oh…"

**"No Dialogue" **

Voldemort was waiting for a reply. For once, Severus could find nothing to say. The young woman looks at him, eyes wide, Voldemort's fingers digging cruelly into her cheeks. Severus splutters, losing his composure. His survival had always depended upon swift words, but he can find no fluid fabrication now.

What does the mudblood mean to him? She is as anxious for his answer as the Dark Lord is. He fears her gaze more. More than her life is at stake. Voldemort's wand tip traces soft kisses around her throat. What does she mean to him?

Severus has no answer

**"Boggart" **

_"Don't."_

Severus slams the closet door shut. Hermione's face grows pale. The specter of an auburn-haired woman vanishes with a crack. Severus' wand almost snaps in his hand.

"That was—"

"Don't say her name."

Hermione's shock slowly burns down to a hard stone of anger, and defeat.

"Are you always going to pine after her?"

Severus grabs her hand as she makes to run for the door. She glares, daring him to stop her. Ashamed, he looks away and lets her go.

"Somehow I hoped I could make you forget…"

Hermione's voice is sad and she flees into the night.

**"Senses" **

He stops her hand and sits on the edge of her workstation. She looks startled. He can smell her hair, the chap of laundry soap and sweat. His lips curl unpleasantly in a predatory grin.

"I can _smell_ you, Miss Granger."

"S-Sir?"

Her cheeks burn red hot as he draws in, perched sinuously in front of her. She smells first of warm cotton, but he can detect the coppery, fishy smell of her most intimate bleeding.

He swipes a fingertip across her face, musing on the sight as he presses it to his tongue. Her tears are salty sweet.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N** Drabbles written for grangersnape100 and now archived here. The drabble's title is the prompt. "Regency" refers to a certain type of historical romance novel, one of the genre's most noted authors is Georgette Heyer, and some argue Jane Austen. The "First Kiss" and "Smut" challenges were a follow up to the Regency. Be patient if this updates several times, I'm having trouble with coding.

Please leave a review, and enjoy!

**"Regency"**

Stepping into the apothecary, the Lady Granger sniffed and the musk of asphodel and hellebore filled her nose. A slight _frisson_ went through her as she remembered all the warnings she had been given on the alchemist. They said he was a vile man, possessing a rude nature and too arrogant than was kindly looked upon. He cared not for the appropriate forms of address and mocked the etiquette required for proper breeding. If any should learn of her partaking in any form of discourse with him, the Lady Granger was sure the reprimand would be harsh and unforgiving. 

* * *

He regarded her coolly with unabashed eyes and made no form of obeisance to her as her title warranted. She prickled slightly, but was secretly excited by it.

"Miss Granger, I thought it was highly improper for a lady to travel without a chaperone."

"It is _Lady_ Granger. You are far too bold, Mr. Snape."

He took her extended hand and raised it to his lips. Instead of returning it back to her, as was wont in polite society, he began to remove her glove. He had the audacity to stare into her eyes, smiling dangerously, like the Chesire cat. 

* * *

Her cheeks flushed and her heart beat a wild staccato. The glove slipped off her fingertips in a silken whisper, and she felt his thumb delicately violining on the back of her hand.

"Refrain your boldness to your speech, Mr. Snape."

Retrieving her hand, the Lady Granger left the apothecary. He brought her perfumed glove to his face, feeling the silk tickle his nose. When she turned in the street to look at him through the window, he waved the glove at her and snickered when she stormed away. They both knew she would return...and not for the glove.

**"First Kiss"/"Smut"**

"Again without a chaperone, Miss Granger, people will talk."

"Must I remind you of my title—"

The alchemist waved a dismissive hand,

"I will not condescend to use it. Now tell me, have you always used rose water?"

He succeeded in making her blush again, as she saw the silk glove left behind the previous day twined in his left fingertips. There was a silent acknowledgement in the meeting of their eyes and he quirked a dramatic eyebrow. With the smallest gesture of his head, he went into the backroom.

"Come."

Lady Granger hesitated for a moment, and no longer. 

* * *

Lady Granger pointedly ignored the worn bed in the corner of the room, and glared darkly at the alchemist when he was amused by the spectacle. However, contrary to her fears, he also paid it no more attention and instead perused his shelves.

"Rose water is for ladies of delicate dispositions, Miss Granger, and as such, is unsuitable for your use."

She sniffed,

"I am a delicate woman."

He drew close to her so quickly her breath hitched in her throat. Their noses were almost touching and his breath was warm and intrusive.

"Indeed? That would disappoint me ever so." 

* * *

Their gazes were locked for a second longer before the alchemist looked back to his shelves and neatly plucked a crystal phial from its fellows.

Uncorking the tiny phial, he placed a drop on her glove and then gently waved it in the air. Releasing the perfume, he held it under her nose.

It was spicy, almost like the private musk released from one's skin. She was shamed into closing her eyes to continue to enjoy the audaciously intimate scent. She heard him whisper, somewhere by her ear.

"No flower, no fruit, no fragrance sweeter…than that of the blushing virgin…"

* * *

Lady Granger raised a hand to slap him for his rudeness, but he quickly caught her wrist. His eyes were smoldering and she felt a throbbing in her sex, and heat unfurl in the pit of her stomach.

"It has a unique taste as well…"

The glove fluttered to the ground, neglected, and he poured more perfume oil onto his fingertips. Her head swam with the fresh musk and she felt a fingertip rub oil on her bottom lip. Her tongue flicked forth nervously, and she immediately pulled away. It was bitter.

His hand still claiming her wrist held fast. 

* * *

He looked at her hungrily, with no more playful façade of his intentions. His fingers were conducting a silent symphony at the pivot of her wrist.

"I could take the taste away."

"How?"

The word escaped her lips in a sigh, his eyelids fluttered and he leaned forward to press his lips against hers. She hummed against his mouth and yelped when she felt the push of his tongue. His hand pressed against her ribcage, feeling the erratic palpitations of her heart. When her knees buckled he scooped her into his arms.

"No…"

She weakly protested, pushing against his shoulders. 

* * *

"No?"

She was dumped onto the worn bed, and straddled. His fingers danced across her throat, his mouth following close behind. Her breathing became ragged and when her corset couldn't contain her heaving chest any longer, he severed the laces and ripped it away. The hot kisses left on her stomach made her squirm and she squeezed her eyes shut.

An insistent knee pressed up against her groin and she whimpered in fear. She was suddenly aware of the absence of his hot mouth, his dancing fingers and heard his dark voice somewhere up above her.

"Look at me, Lady." 

* * *

She couldn't, her hands twisted the sheets above her head.

"Look at me, or leave."

His knee withdrew and with it the sweet pressure that had pushed against her neediest place, and she felt a dull ache in its stead. Her eyes tore open and locked with his, glittering, unfathomable.

"I will not have you make me a villainous man, Lady Granger."

When she realized his intention was to discontinue and leave her virtue intact, she felt her heart constrict and her thighs clench. Desperately, she reached up and grabbed the front of his shirt. He gaped, surprised.

"It's Hermione." 

* * *

Free of all restraint they became a tangled helix of limbs and sheets, man undistinguishable from woman undistinguishable from cloth. She heard her name several times over, groaned into her ear and gasped into her hair. He tasted her own perfume when his tongue flicked at the sweat glistening on the back of her knees. She learned of a different sort of alchemy when the clenching of her sex caused his eyes to darken and his mouth to fall open.

He slipped the phial into one glove before dressing her hands himself. A shared, secretive smile was their only goodbye.

* * *

FIN 


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N I now owe a disclaimer to J.K. Rowling and Nabokov. I own nothing recognizable, they do and all the other companies who have rights to their work. Hermione is also over eighteen years old in this story. This installment is an M rating.  
**

**All text in bold is from _Lolita_. The challenge is to take page 197 from a book and create a different story from it.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

I should never have brought her to this place, of that I am sure. In the moment in which I was forced to prove my loyalty to the Dark lord, however, I took the coward's way. 

She was brought to Malfoy Manor, paraded and ravaged at the Dark revel and forced to stay ever since. I sought absolution in the delusions that I would save her once the war ended…but that's all they were, delusions.

Damn Lucius.

I suspected the bastard would have concocted a spiteful scheme like this.

What I never expected was for her to change.

Damn me.

* * *

Hermione sat on the bed, scuffing her heel against the floor in a show of nonchalance. She didn't fool me, her collar was crooked and she smelled of sex.

"Who?"

**She sat with a diabolical glow that had no relation to me whatever. **

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

There were dark circles under her eyes, and bite marks all over her skin. She did not fight anymore, though she was angry. She blamed me for her existence, but she did not search for an escape. She no longer hated being here. This is what truly disturbed me.

* * *

**"You've been out."**

**"I just got up," she replied and added upon intercepting my downward glance.** There was a long blonde hair on her shirt, which she casually plucked away. I felt my knees go weak.

"You keep going to him."

She stared back with **those muddy, moony eyes of hers**, devoid of anything that was vaguely like the girl I remembered. She shrugged, looked slyly at me from under hooded lids. She knew I knew.

"I **went out for a sec. Wanted to see if you were coming back."**

She was toying with me. What happened to you, Hermione?

* * *

"You're playing a dangerous game."

"It's _your_ game, just my rules."

I squeezed my eyes shut; **this frankness irritated me**, and was also what I couldn't stomach.

"I will get you out—"

"Of course."

She leaned back, breasts pushed up into the air. I wanted to tell her she didn't have to play the vixen, that I would not revel in her coquettish manners. It didn't matter. She'd been conditioned to play the whore too well.

"I know you go to them, even when they don't call for you. Stop. You already have my attention, little good it does you."

I turned to leave her room.

* * *

**  
**

**"Where are you going?"**

I halted by the doorway. She'd come up behind me. Her hand traveled down my waist, so small. My hand enveloped it completely, stopping it from moving further.

"You've never had me yet, Severus."

The horrible laughter in her voice made me turn, crush her hand until she whimpered.

_"When will you take this seriously again?"_

I saw a flicker of something I knew on her face.

"Why would you ask that of me?"

**I said nothing. I pushed her softness back into the room and went in after her.**

* * *

She lay down on the bed a dozen had already taken her on. **I ripped her shirt off.** It was this desire that had ruined her and damned me. My hands shook as I gazed upon what I never would have had in a proper world, and what I was afraid to take in a perverted reality.

**I unzipped the rest of her. Wildly, I pursued the shadow of her infidelity; but the scent I traveled upon was so slight as to be practically indistinguishable from a madman's fancy.**

"It's not perfect, Severus, but it will do."

Truer words, Hermione.

* * *

FIN 


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Another small small drabble series from the GS100 community. Remember, the title is the challenge prompt.**

* * *

**"One Last" **

He refused to look at her as they walked to the Hogwarts Express. The veins stuck out on his hand, his fingers clenching hers tight.

"Severus."

"I don't want to hear it—"

He still didn't look at her.

"—And there's nothing left to say."

She tried to embrace him before stepping onto the train, but he pushed her away with firm hands.

She sat down in an empty compartment and immediately felt dizzy. She had to close her eyes and breathe deeply so she wouldn't faint. She also had to remind herself that the time for crying was over.

* * *

She laid her forehead against the window and sighed, eyes closed. When she opened them, she could see him standing on the platform, his back to her. Her hand pressed against the window, mournful that it was not feeling his skin.

He turned, their eyes locked, and her heart stopped. He began to speak, and she followed the movements of his lips, trembling.

_I was wrong to ever keep you_.

The train jerked, the shrill whistle shrieking. Hermione looked frantically at him, unconsciously battering against the glass, unable to stop the inevitable end.

He graced her with one last smile.

FIN


End file.
